


Burned

by peterpan_in_neverland



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpan_in_neverland/pseuds/peterpan_in_neverland
Summary: Eliza pushed open Maria's bedroom window, summoning her for an epic crusade of pranks against those that have wronged her. After going after three unlikely victims, Eliza and Maria part ways for the night. Maria expects things to be different in the morning, and they are-- just not in the way that she had hoped. Eliza has disappeared, and she won't be found until she wants to be.





	1. Burned-- Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Sound a bit too much like Paper Towns by John Green? That's because its an AU of it.

Eliza had never been entirely grounded to one spot. She had a move-around-never-sit-still-always-doing-something personality.

Her outlandish adventures and increasingly epic escapades had attracted people to her like moths to a bug-zapper: beautiful but deep down dangerous, and she burned the people that got too close.

All but one, and that one burned her.

\---

“Maria, I'm just saying, if you choose to go to college straight out of high school then your father and I can _try_ to pay-”

“But nothing is guaranteed,” I argued. It was this way all the time-- go the way we want and we can support you until we can't, and _we can't_ always came too soon. “That's why I'm saying I need to wait and save enough money to pay for what you can't. If I take out student loans, I'll _drown_ in them.”

“This might not be the best choice for you, Maria.”

“That's the only route that's guaranteed,” I pointed out, before looking through the passenger seat window and realizing we had pulled up outside the brick entrance to school, the glass doors gleaming. “Would you look at that, we’re here,” I said, desperate to get out of the judgemental atmosphere of my mother's van. “Gotta go.” I kissed her on the cheek, before pushing the door open and hopping out. My mother didn't even make an attempt at rolling down the tinted window and shouting something about having a good day and that she loved me. Instead, she put the car in drive, and disappeared into the line of cars waiting for an escape out of the endless parking lot.

“Wouldya look at that,” a familiar voice shouted. “Maria Lewis in da house!” I turned around, coming face-to-face with Sarah, one half of the only two friends I had retained thus far.

“I've only missed one day this year, why do you sound so surprised?”

“Ah yes, that one glorious day you missed, because of a wicked hangover.”

“Sarah,” I cautioned. She _knew_ better than to be shouting my illegal affairs at the top of her lungs. Albeit, my list of illegal affairs was a short one.

“Remind me,” she continued, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes. “Wouldn't that be the same night that you almost hooked up with-”

“Zip it!” I hissed, before grabbing Sarah's arm and yanking her into the building. I tugged her into the first bathroom I could find, without releasing her arm. “What is wrong with you?”

“Shall I organize that alphabetically or in greatest to least in terms of affecting my daily life?” She asked, a sarcastic smile hooking up the corners of her mouth.

“I'm serious, Sarah. There are things you shout in front of a school, and there are things you don't.”

“I'm going to need some examples.”

“Things you _do_ shout,” I began, counting on my fingers. “‘Did you do the math homework’ ‘I need coffee’ ‘I regret not calling in fake sick.’”

“And things you don't?” She mused.

“Stuff about my sexlife!” I snapped, and the message finally seemed to cross her mind. After a moment of silence, “understood,” was all she muttered.

“Thank you,” I drawled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I have to get to calculus.”

“So you're going to leave me stranded in this bathroom?” She asked, the usual joking manner coming back into her full force.

“There's an exit, I’m sure you can figure the way out.”

“Obviously,” she scoffed, and I stopped long enough to take in her look. “But are you forgetting that Quinn has your calculus notebook?”

I groaned. Sarah was right, Quinn-- the other of my only two friends-- did have my calculus notebook in her possession. “You could have lead with that!” I snapped.

“You know I don't operate that way.”

“Where's Quinn?” I asked, blowing a breath through my teeth. “I need to get my notebook, then I need to kill her.”

“No murders,” Sarah bargained, and I shot her a glance that clearly said to be quiet unless you want to end up on my hitlist. “It's before first period, so she's in band.”

“Lead the way, band nerd supreme.”

\---

After successfully getting my notebook back from the ever brilliant, yet slightly naïve Quinn, I rushed back to calculus, knowing that if there was even a strand of my curly hair not in the room when the bell rang, I was toast. As nice as Mr Jacobsen is, he was 1) extremely strict with the bell and 2) determined to ruin my standing of being the only student that had never been late to his class.

I passed by Eliza, forcing myself to keep walking instead of trying to dig up the courage to talk to her.

\---

I stared at eight different clocks for eight total hours, waiting for the day to go by. While I cornered my thoughts of Eliza into one part of my mind, forcing the others to focus on the writing on the board and occasionally the clock above the door.

None of what my English teacher, Mrs Grissom, was talking about made sense, and I found my mind become less focused on the board and more focused on the clock.

Finally, it struck 3:20 in the afternoon and we were free to leave. I gathered my things, and made a dash for the door. I knew better than to assume that Mrs Grissom wouldn't notice my lack of interest in her lesson on some century and a half old book, and I wanted to get out of there before I heard-

“Ms Lewis, could I have a word with you?” My shoulders slumped, and I bit my lip before turning around and plastering a fake smile on my face mid-turn.

“Yes?”

“Could you tell me _anything_ that I was talking about during the lesson?” She asked, “anything at all?” I made a quick glance to the blackboard, and noticed it mercifully had some writing on it. I made out the words _Jane Eyre,_ which were sloppily written and crookedly underlined.

I sighed, a weight coming off of my shoulders. I may not have known what the lecture was about, but I could give a summary of the book. “ _Jane Eyre_ was written in 1847 by Charlotte Brontë. It follows the life of Jane Eyre, a young orphaned girl. She survives an abusive childhood and goes on to become a teacher and then a governess for the ward of a man named Mr. Rochester. They fall in love, but strange things-”

“You clearly weren't paying attention,” Mrs Grissom interrupted, clicking her tongue. “Look at the board- completely this time, not out of the corner of your eye.” She gave me a knowing look, and I bit my lip. I turned to the board, noticing the title of the lesson written far above the title of the book.   


“Feminism: comparison between Jane Eyre and today…” I muttered, groaning quietly. I turned back to Mrs Grissom. “Oops?”

“‘Oops’ indeed.” I sat through her five-minute lecture on paying attention and getting enough sleep in order to pay attention.

Finally, she let me go, and I rushed to my locker, throwing my books in my bag before grabbing it and hoisting it onto my shoulder. I knew Sarah and Quinn would be gone by now, but what I didn't expect was to see Eliza rush out of the passenger side of her older sister's car.

She looked at me for a millisecond, and I saw enough to know that someone had gravely messed up; her face was red and tear streaked, and she wiped at one of her cheeks before closing the car door with a slam, rushing away.

I looked back at the car, and saw someone-- presumably her older sister, but Angelica couldn't have made her that upset-- slam their hands on the dashboard before the door opened. Indeed, Angelica did rush out, barely even making sure the door was closed before running after her sister.

“Eliza, wait!” Angelica shouted, but Eliza had already disappeared. “Damnit!” I heard Angelica shout, before deciding to make myself scarce. I ducked back into the school, calling my mom and requesting that she come pick me up.

By the time my mom made it, the two elder Schuyler sisters had disappeared, as had Angelica's car.

“Did you have a good day, sweetie?” My mom asked, the pretentious mood she had been in this morning had been dropped entirely.

“It was fine,” I answered automatically, knowing better than to tell her about Eliza and Angelica. She would have called their father immediately after getting home, and I didn't fancy being in the center of that.

“That's good,” she said, before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the school parking lot.

\---

Upon getting back to my house, I dodged my mother's questions of why I had been late, and took my bag up to my room to actually read _Jane Eyre_ , and I looked out of my window. Angelica's car wasn't in the driveway, and Eliza's curtains were pulled closed.

I sighed, and contemplated ignoring _Jane Eyre_ and seeing if she was online. My will to find out if she was okay over took my responsible side, and I set down _Jane Eyre_ (which was only open to page eleven) and took a seat in my computer chair. I opened my laptop, logging onto a chat room used in majority by the population of Rodgers High School, and nearly no one else.

Eliza wasn't on, but Quinn was. I watched as an italicized notification told me that Quinn requested to send me a message. I clicked the notification, and read the short greeting.

**Quinn2719: heard you got chewed out by Grimace- I mean Grissom**

**Mammamiaitsmaria: let me live.**

**Quinn2719: ‘fraid not, old friend. You best be ignoring me and reading Jane Eyre right now, unless you want another lecture from the beast herself**

**Mammamiaitsmaria: okay, mom**

I logged out, closing my laptop, resolving to sit down and read like I should be. I made it to chapter six before I was called downstairs by my mom to eat dinner.

I ate, barely uttering a word while my parents discussed a spike in gas prices and a lack of well-educated people in politics. I finished, rinsing my plate in the sink, and rushing back upstairs before either of them could ask my opinion on the most recent Facebook post made by some government official in Arkansas.

I read to chapter nine of _Jane Eyre_ before marking my spot with a loose piece of paper, and taking a quick shower. I logged back onto the chat room after my shower, messaged Quinn (mostly complaining about Mrs Grissom) and had just laid down when I heard a noise at my window.

I opened my eyes, but didn't sit up. My first thought was a tree branch, then I immediately remembered that there was not a tree within window scratching distance. I heard the window open, and felt a rush of cool air flood into my room, followed by a soft sound that said someone had done a somersault into my room, via my bedroom window.

Finally, I grabbed the softball bat leaning by my bed, and in one fluid motion sat up, and turned around, swinging the bat out in front of me. A female-figured person stood inches away from the end of my bat, a hoodie pulled up over their face and skinny jeans covering their legs. They had ratty converse, which were sloppily tied and needed to be replaced.

“Jesus Christ!” A distinctly familiar voice shouted. “Are you crazy?” I lowered the bat, at the same time the figure lowered their hood. Immediately, I recognized Eliza, and I moved to click on my bedside light.

“Don't,” she whispered. “I don't want to wake up your parents.”

“You just screamed at the top of your lungs, and they haven't come rushing to what they suppose would be my aid. I think we're in the clear.” I clicked on the light, and looked Eliza in the face. “Why did you somersault into my window?” I asked, pushing my blanket off my legs and pulling them to my chest.

“Because I need to borrow you and I need to borrow your car,” she said, clicking her tongue, and shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie

“You seem to be uneducated in how my life works, because I don't have a car.”

“Then your parents car,” she said. “They do have a car, right?”

“I'd have to steal the keys,” I announced, raising my eyebrows. “And that is a thing I'm _not_ going to do.”

“Where are the keys, then?” She asked, raising her eyebrows in a bad imitation of me.

“On the kitchen counter,” I answered, about to ask why when she disappeared from my bedroom.

“Oh, hell no.” I jumped off of my bed, turning out of the hallway and rushing down the stairs after Eliza. I pushed open the door to the kitchen to see her sitting at one of the stools on the island, her feet propped up on the counter, spinning the keys around her index finger by the keyring.

“I am _not_ stealing my moms car,” I said, pushing my semi-dried hair off my shoulders.

“I'll be your accomplice,” she offered, still spinning the keys around her finger. “Because either way, I'm doing what I need to do.”

“And just what do you so badly need to do?”

“There are a few things, actually, and at least half of them involve an accomplice.” She finally stopped spinning the keys, catching them in her hand, and put her feet back to the ground, bouncing her legs.

“Why don't you get Peggy or Angelica to do it?” I asked, immediately regretting it when I noticed her setting her jaw.

“Because my sisters are part of the problem.”

“Alexander, then.”

“He's the _biggest_ problem,” Eliza whispered. “Please.” I looked her in the eye, and knew without knowing what my answer would be.

“Alright. Let me get dressed.”

\---

I threw on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt emblazoned with a logo to a band I didn't even like anymore, and rushed downstairs.

“You ready, curly sue?” Eliza asked after I emerged into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but motioned for her to follow me.

We made it into the foyer, and I had just grabbed a loose jacket from one of the pegs by the door.

“Maria?” I heard my mother's voice whisper in a questioning tone. “And is that Elizabeth Schuyler?” I looked at her in the corner of my eye. Her lips were pulled up in a clever smirk, her eyes glowing mischievously.

“Susanna, how are you?” Eliza exclaimed, turning on her heel, her hair brushing my shoulder. “It's been so long, long enough for you to not know that I go by Eliza, mostly.”

“I'm good, but I would like to know what exactly my daughter and my neighbors daughter are doing at 10:33 at night.”

“Tacos!” Eliza exclaimed, looking at me and quirking up an eyebrow. “Isn't that right, Maria?”

“Yep, tacos,” I said, hoping that I sounded convincing enough.

“You're going to get tacos at ten o'clock at night?”

“That's what other people do. Haven't you been saying you want me to do some more normal activities?” I asked, ignoring the urge to put air quotes around the word _normal._

“Be back by curfew,” she granted. She stifled a yawn, and walked back in the direction of her bedroom. I turned back to Eliza, and the glint in her eyes said we most certainly were not going to be back by curfew.

“Good thing I decided against any camouflage face paint, because that would have been harder to explain,” Eliza muttered, before grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the front door. She tossed me the keys to the car, and ran to it. She jumped onto the hood, sliding across it perfectly before landing on her feet on the other side.

“C’mon, slowpoke.” She pulled open the passenger seat door, dropping into it. I elected the much safer option, and walked to the car, sitting down in the driver's seat after pulling the door open. Eliza had her feet kicked up on the dash, and she was humming quietly to herself.

“I cannot believe you talked me into stealing my parents car.”

“I cannot believe you told me where the keys were,” she countered. “Not that I wouldn't’ve found them on my own.” Ignoring her, I put the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

“So,” I began, tapping my fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel. “What exactly do you have planned for tonight?”

“Firstly, that would require a few months worth of backstory, which I am going to sum up as easily as possible.”

“Shoot.”

“My boyfriend, whom I have been with for many months now, has been fucking my older sister,” she said these seventeen words as if they were the most normal things, the most painfully obvious, in-your-face things. And what do you say to the girl who just said these seventeen words, that had admitted that the one person closest to her had done this?

You say sorry.

“I'm sorry-”

“Don't be. Not like you knew, I sure didn't.” She took a deep breath. “But Peggy did, and she never told me. Angelica didn't tell me for _months,_ and Alexander-” she broke off. “And Alexander did all of it. He slept with her, and she...” Eliza stopped, taking in another deep breath. “Apparently she initiated it.”

 _Sweet jesus,_ I thought, _who the hell does that to their own sister?_ Then I was immediately hit with the next thought like a stray gust of wind: _that was almost you._

Eliza's voice snapped me from the sudden thought that has consumed me momentarily. “And you know what the most terrible thing is?” Eliza asked, and apparently she was not waiting for a response because immediately following those words came these: “if she would have told me before I even dated him, if she would have told me that she loved him. I would have stayed away. He'd be hers, and my heart would have broke, but at least it wouldn't have been like _this.”_

“Is that why you were crying earlier?” I asked before I could stop myself. “After school, in the parking lot.”

“I-” she began, then stopped. “Yeah. I walked home after that. Angelica is at her apartment, I didn't want to be locked in a car with her for fifteen minutes.” She bit her lip. “I could barely even look at her,” her voice was a whisper, featherlight and quiet.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, you need to go to that huge Walmart impersonator store on 3rd.”

“Why are we going to a box store at 11:13 at night?”

“Because before problems can be solved, the solutions need to be bought with paper that has a value.” We pulled into the parking lot of the 24 hour store, and she passed me a piece of notebook paper that had been ripped from its spiral binding.

“And, I think a Benjamin Franklin will be enough to cover that,” she said, tossing a wadded up hundred dollar bill in my lap. “Benny is a friend of mine, use him wisely.”

I unfolded the notebook paper, scanning the page. Immediately, I noticed that Eliza didn't capitalize any letters in any of the words.

_matches_

_flour_

_glitter_

_balloons(the kind that can easily be filled with flour and glitter)_

_rubber bands_

_nair_

_light blue spray paint_

_itching powder_

“What're you waiting for, lesgo!” She said, clapping her hands, and jumping out of my moms car. I followed her, pocketing the list and the money.

“Hey there,” the cashier said, pulling what he assumed to be an attractive and sultry glance. “How're you _gorgeous_ ladies doing tonight.”

“We’re doing wonderful,” Eliza answered, before I could tell him off.

“You know, if one of you would like to spend some time with me-”

“No thanks,” Eliza said, cutting him off and wrapping an arm around my waist. “She's the gay Maria to my gay Eliza.” The cashier didn't seem to believe her words, and opened his mouth to say something else. She looked at me for just a second, a glance that was enough to leave my cheeks burning. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my cheek; if my cheeks weren't burning before, they were now. Finally, the cashier whitened, and shut his mouth. He turned around, and pretended to sort through the cigarette boxes behind the counter.

“Alright, gay Maria, we have shopping to do.” Not releasing the grip on my waist, she turned me around to face the aisles.

“So,” I said, still very aware of her arm around my waist. “What exactly are we using the itching powder for?”

“You'll have to wait and see,” was her answer. She let go of my waist after lightly squeezing my hip, and disappeared down an aisle.

“‘Liza…” I didn't want to be left alone with creepy cashier guy, so I followed her.

“Do you know if this place has a pharmacy aisle?” Eliza asked, reappearing with a packet of balloons in her hand. “Because I forgot to add a necessary item to that list.”

“Yeah, I think. It's this way.” We walked down the aisles, Eliza occasionally stopping to grab something we needed.

“Here we are.” She walked down the pharmacy aisle, before grabbing something and adding it to the growing pile of stuff in her arms.

“What was that, Eliza?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunching up.

“Condoms,” she answered plainly. “They're for Peggy, part of the revenge plot.”

“And what're you going to do with the condoms, once you give them to Peggy?”

“Oh, you've misunderstood,” she said, turning to face me. She began to walk backwards, putting all of her weight on the balls of her feet. “These are to be hidden in Peggy's room without her knowledge, and then I'm going to leave an anonymous tip to our dad.” She turned around, walking normally again.

“You evil genius,” I muttered under my breath, and followed her. She grabbed a basket from a stack at the end of an aisle contains nothing but breakfast cereals, and held it out towards me. I took it, and she dumped everything-- the balloons, condoms, flour, rubber bands, and the matches-- into the basket.

“So, how do all of these things come into play?”

“They come into play in the sense that we use all of them in the Elizabeth Schuyler revenge plot,” she answered, turning into the craft aisle and tossing a plastic bottle of silver glitter in my direction. I caught it, setting it down in the basket just as she tossed a second bottle of gold glitter.

“The one thing Peggy hates more than a mess, is glitter being a part of that mess,” she announced, walking out of the aisle and looking up at the plastic signs with the contents of each area listed on them. She stopped at one that said paint, and walked in the direction of the arrow next to it.

She finally stopped in front of a wall of spray paints in various colours. We walked through them, until she grabbed one, seemingly satisfied. “That's the closest match to my prom dress,” she explained, without me having to ask.

We got the rest of the items from her list, and she awkwardly stared down the cashier as he was scanning our items. He stared suspiciously at the condoms, no doubt wondering why two girls that had described themselves as gay would be buying condoms, but he closed his mouth and said nothing.

“It is,” Eliza stopped, looking at the watch on her left wrist before announcing, “11:42. We can do this.” We jumped into the car, setting the three bags in the back.

“Where to now?” I asked, looking at Eliza.

“Now, we go to Angelica's apartment,” she said. “Baaaasically, this is going to be the best night of your life.”

\---

“Oh, I was _not_ expecting that,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “That's Alexander's car. Outside of Angelica's building.”

“What does that- _ohh.”_

“Not a good day to be Alexander,” Eliza muttered. “Park behind the building, we can walk.” She reached into the back, grabbing the itching powder and the spray paint.

“I will do the dirty work, and you will keep watch. I'll call Angelica before we enter her apartment, Alexander will run off, believe me.” Eliza pushed open the door to the car, motioning for me to follow. She walked to Alexander's car, opening the door. “Idiot doesn't even know that his car doors won't lock if the keys are still inside of it.” She grabbed the keys, and slammed the door shut, locking it. She pocketed the keys, and started towards Angelica's building.

“Wait, won't Angelica still be in her room?” I asked, catching up with Eliza.

“Nope,” she answered, opening the door to Angelica's apartment building. “Angelica is the only person I know that takes a shower after sex, no matter if the guy runs off or not.” She walked up the stairs, stopping at the end of Angelica's hall.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and dialed Angelica's number. It rang for a bit, before Angelica answered. “Hi, ‘Liza.”

“Hello,” Eliza said, false cheer in her voice. “How's Alexander?”

Angelica was silent a bit, before saying, “I… don't know. I haven't seen him in a while.” She was clearly lying, and Eliza rolled her eyes. As if on cue, Alexander rushed out of Angelica's apartment, in only underwear, his clothes balled up in his hands. He caught sight of Eliza, and she came forward.

“Gotta go, Angelica.” She hung up on her sister, and grabbed Alexander's clothes from his hands. She looked to her side, noticing the trash chute. She dumped the clothes into it, shutting it with a metallic _clang._

Alexanders eyes widened, and he pointed between Eliza and the trash chute. “Did you just throw my fucking clothes in there?!”

“Absolutely, and you best believe this was a dream,” Eliza said, and he walked away, flipping her the bird. Once he was out of sight, I approached Eliza.

“I think _I_ even believe that was a dream,” I said, and Eliza half-smiled before walking into Angelica's apartment. The shower was running, and Eliza put a finger to her lips, and raised her eyebrows.

“You keep watch, I'll go and fix problem un.” She walked into Angelica's room, and I stood outside the door, watching as she sprinkled the itching powder into Angelica's clothes. Finally, she took the spray paint out of her pocket, shaking it. The ball inside of the can clicked against the metal three times, before she uncapped it. In one precise, fluid motion, she spray painted a light blue lowercase _e_ onto the wall above Angelica's dresser.

She recapped the spray paint, and came out of the room, closing the door. “Let's go, before-”

“Eliza?” Eliza's eyes widened fractionally, and she turned towards her sister. Angelica was wearing a tank top and wonder woman underwear, her wet curls pulled back behind her head.

Their eyes met, and in that moment I saw years worth of a sisterhood stretch out-- I could see Angelica and Eliza, dandelions woven into their hair, despite their obligatory status as weeds. I could see Angelica bandaging Eliza's knee after she had scraped it on their driveway. I could hear Eliza's shouts after Angelica had fallen out of a tree they had been climbing, and I could see her running for their dad after jumping out of the tree when Angelica hadn't gotten back up. I could see them leaving their house together for prom-- and as I watched them now, Angelica's mouth formed an inaudible word and I couldn't read lips.

Eliza tore her gaze away from Angelica before grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the apartment.

Angelica didn't even try to come after us.

\---

“Next,” she said, after slamming the door to the passenger side of the car shut. “We go to Alexander's. It's an apartment, down in Washington heights.”

“I know where he lives,” I said, and Eliza furrowed her brow.

“How?”

“I went to a party there, once. Never went back.”

“Oh,” she said, and was silent for a moment. “Was this party in November?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That's the first time Angelica slept with him,” Eliza said, kicking her feet up on the dashboard and tossing the spray paint end-over-end, catching it every time. I didn't reply. Instead, I thought.

I thought about the party, about Alexander kissing me, and about the smell of alcohol still on our breaths. And I remember that I remembered Eliza, and I had shoved him away. Thinking _I cannot do this to Eliza, I can't_ and I ran, escaping out a window because the house was too crowded, and shimming down a tree. I had enough sense to call Sarah, who picked me up and drove me home.

“Maria!” I snapped myself out of my thoughts, and looked to Eliza. “You drove past his building. You sure you know where you're going?” She asked, a joking tone lining her voice.

“Yeah,” I answered, biting my lip and circling back around to park in front of Alexander's building. His car wasn't there, and there was no way he'd made his way back yet. Eliza grabbed the bag contains the nair, and jumped out from the car. I followed after her, and she made her way into the building.

We walked up two flights of stairs, before stopping at Alexander's door. She pulled a lock pick from her pocket, and in a matter of minutes she had the door opened. “Let's go.” She walked in, closing the door behind us.

“We need to work fast, in case Alexander gets back.” She tossed me the spray paint. “Get an _e_ on the wall, above the kitchen counter. Make sure it's lowercase.” I nodded, and she disappeared into one of the room in the hallway.

I walked into the kitchen, and shook the paint quickly. I uncapped it, and leaned over the counter. I sprayed a lowercase _e_ onto the wall with the baby blue spray paint, and looked at it for a moment, before spraying a small, almost indistinguishable lowercase _m_ next to it.

“Ooh, I like it.” Eliza had reappeared behind me. She had her hands on her hips, her head tilted, as if she was appraising the vandalism. “The _m_ is a nice touch. I approve.”

“Let's get out of here before-” I was cut off by the sound of the front door opening, and I grabbed Eliza's wrist, pulling her to Alexander's bedroom.

“Maria, what're you- oh.” She realized what I was doing just as I threw the window open, and I stuck my upper body out of it, grabbing onto the tree branch and pulling the rest of my body out. Once I was in the tree, making my way down, Eliza followed.

I jumped the last few feet, landing clumsily and almost falling. Eliza, of course, jumped and landed in a way that would make gymnasts jealous.

“For part trois, we go back to my house.”

\---

I pulled back into our neighborhood, parking a block away. Eliza grabbed the balloons, and held them still while I poured glitter and flour into them. She grabbed the condoms, opening the box and taking a few out. She held them up between her fingers. “Gotta make it look like she's used a few.” And threw them into the backseat.

We walked a block to her house, and she opened the door quietly, leading me up the stairs and into Peggy's bedroom. Peggy was asleep in her bed, her cropped curls wild, and her face relaxed in sleep.

Eliza grabbed a stepstool by the door, and climbed onto it, tying the balloons onto the fan. She had explained that once the fan was turned on, the balloons would burst, scattering flour and glitter everywhere in Peggy's room.

Once she was finished, she spray painted an _e_ onto the wall, letting me spray paint a small _m_ next to it.

“I have one more thing to do here.” She walked out of the room, and I followed her into the hallway, but she had disappeared. In a matter of seconds, she had appeared from what had to be the door to her bedroom, a bright yellow folder tucked under her arm.

I followed her out of the house, and to the car. She didn't say a word until we were back inside it. “Now we go to the old campgrounds.”

“Eliza, that's almost an hour drive and it's-” I stopped to look at the time. “It's almost one in the morning.”

“This is the last thing, after that you won't have to do anything else for me.” She promised, and I looked at her suspiciously, put turned the car on anyway.

\---

She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Her whole body was relaxed, a look on her face that said her emotional safety net had been dropped.

I pulled into the camp grounds, and nudged Eliza on the shoulder gently. She woke up, blinking hard in an attempt to clear the sleepiness from her mind.

“Did I fall asleep?” She asked quietly. “I'm sorry,” she muttered, before I could answer.

“It's alright. But we're here, what's so important about the campgrounds?”

“Right, grab the matches,” she said, pressing the folder to her chest and getting out of the car. I reached into the back, grabbing the matches from the now empty grocery bag.

I followed Eliza, until she stopped. We had arrived at the fire pit, a small circle of rocks and dirt that never grew anything. Eliza had gathered some sticks, and had brought newspaper with her.

“We're starting a fire, and then we're going to burn these.” She opened the folder, showing me the papers inside. I realized that these were all love letters, addressed to Eliza, and written in a curly script. “They're from Alexander. I'm burning them.”

“Woah, Eliza.” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to face me. “Are you sure you want to burn these?”

“I've bought the matches. I brought the folder here, and I made you drive for forty-five minutes so I could burn these in the place he kissed me for the first time when I was fourteen,” she said, her voice growing in pitch and becoming more and more intimidating. “I'm sure.”

That was all the confirmation I needed, and I arranged the newspaper and sticks, lighting a match. I lit the newspaper, and it started to burn, the fire eating away at the words until they were nothing but black char.

Eliza grabbed two papers from the folder, tossing them onto the flames. As those burned, she grabbed a couple more and those joined the first in the flames. Soon enough, she had emptied the folder, and I watched the flames as they lapped at the pages. She threw the folder on top of them, before taking a deep, rattling breath.

She began crying quietly, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her against me as she cried. We stood there for what felt like an infinite amount my time, the flames dancing in front of us, and my fingers combing through her hair in what I hoped was a calming fashion.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, wiping her cheeks off. “I'm sorry, I'm okay now.”

“Don't be sorry,” I whispered. “And I believe you.”

“Thank you,” she pulled me into a hug, squeezing her arms around my waist. “I had fun.”

“So did I.” She pulled away from the hug, staring me in the face. I could see a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and on her cheekbones, and she leaned up, pressing another kiss to my cheek. This time, however, it wasn't to get a creepy cashier off our backs.

“We need to get going, it's 1:47.” Eliza said, and rushed off. The fire had burned out, with only a few scraps of paper left. The only legible one read Eliza's name in a curling script. I followed Eliza, knowing now that she had precisely nothing left to lose.

\---

“This was an amazing night, Eliza.” It was 2:57 in the morning, and I had never felt this awake. “Truly.”

“I wouldn't have chosen anyone else to go on a midnight escapade with,” Eliza said, handing me the spray paint. “Truly.”

She pulled me in for another hug, and whispered in my ear. “I. Am. Going. To. Miss. You.”

“You'll see me tomorrow.” I couldn't see her face, but if I could have, I would've known she had grimaced, biting her lip.

“That's true,” she finally said, and pulled away.

“Goodnight, Eliza.”

“Goodbye, Maria.” She turned on her heel, jogging back to her house and climbed up the tree The would allow her to walk on the roof and into the window.

I waved at her one final time, before walking into my house and sneaking back into the room. I peeled off my jeans, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and falling into bed, hoping that I would wake up tomorrow and none of this would have been a dream.

\---

School was normal, achingly so. I saw Eliza nowhere-- she didn't eat lunch with us, didn't pass me in the hallway-- it was like she disappeared entirely.

Once I arrived home, I knew immediately that something was wrong. A fancy silver car was parked in our driveway, a car that screamed official business.

“Mom, I'm home,” I called out, and she replied from the dining room. My mother was sitting at the table next to my father. Eliza's dad sat across from them, his hands folded together on the table. A man I didn't know stood behind Eliza's dad, with a 5 o’clock shadow and wearing a tailored suit.

“What's going on?” I asked, setting my bag down.

“It seems,” my mother began. “That Eliza has gone missing.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. The spray painting, the revenge, the burning of the letters, and the somersaulting into my room at 10:04 at night wearing a hoodie. The simple fact that Eliza had said _Goodbye, Maria_ instead of _Goodnight, Maria._ suddenly even made sense, and I know one thing to be true.

Eliza wouldn't be found until she wanted to be.


	2. Burned Part Two

I walked forward and putting my hands on the back of a chair, locking my elbows. “What do you mean she's ‘missing’?” I asked, looking from Philip Schuyler, to my parents, and to the man with the 5 o’clock shadow. 

“By definition, ‘missing’ tends to mean absent from home and in a place of unknown whereabouts,” 5 o’clock shadow man answered, who was apparently a walking dictionary. “And in this case, Eliza has been missing since last night, which is a commonplace state for her, yes?” 

“She's always been running away. First it was Maryland-- she spent an entire week in Chesapeake Bay. The only damn clue about where she was was a book about the start of the American colonies in Maryland. Then it was New Jersey, Weehawken, actually,” Philip said, breaking off with a scowl. “I don’t understand how Angelica turned out perfectly and Eliza is… not.” I repressed the urge to bring up the simple fact that Angelica slept with her sisters boyfriend. Which, by definition, would make her very  _ not-perfect. _

“Philip-” my mother began, but was cut off. 

“I can only hope that Peggy turns out like Angelica-- she was the dream to raise, never caused trouble, always home by curfew. She's a good person.” As he said those words, I couldn't help but to think of the box of condoms sitting in the drawer in her nightstand, and I knew that he would most definitely  _ not _ find Peggy perfect after those were found. 

“Eliza's a better person than Angelica ever will be,” I muttered, in the vain hope that no one had heard me. No one seemed to, and Philip continued on. Finally, 5 o’clock shadow man/walking dictionary man cleared his throat. 

“Maria, I’d like to have a word with you,” he said, crossing his arms and pulling a pen from his breast pocket. “Would it be alright to have a word with her, alone?” He asked, more to my parents than to me. 

“I don’t see what Maria could possibly know that could help you, sir,” my father answered. 

“With all due respect, Richard, Maria saw Eliza at school-- a place where her father rarely saw her. Maria could have some information for me that will help out in maybe finding Eliza and bringing her home safe.” 

“Now, hold on,” Philip interjected. “I dont want Eliza living in my house again. She's eighteen. She has a boyfriend, and I’m sure Alexander or Angelica would be more than happy to let her stay,” Philip announced. “Frankly, I want to focus on making sure the last of my girls doesn't run away a month from the last day of school.” 

“So, is that a yes?” 

\---

I lead 5 o’clock shadow man/walking dictionary man into the little office that my father spent most of his day slaving away in. I sat down on the desk, kicking my legs and looking down at the worn carpet, while my soon-to-be interrogator sat in the cracked and worn office chair pushed in the corner of the room. I could remember spinning around in that chair until I was dizzy and couldn't stand straight. 

“Maria, I know that you know something that you aren’t telling your parents, or Mr Schuyler,” he said, pulling out a notepad from the inside of his immaculate suit. “I’m Mr Lancaster, by the way.” 

“Maria Lewis,” I replied, even though he already knew my name. “What exactly do you think I’m not telling you?” 

“I think that a girl surrounded by people-- people that she feels don’t understand her, or are against her-- is going to turn to the girl that has everything she could ever wish for.” None of what this man was saying made sense. Eliza had everything-- a boyfriend, her sisters by her side, friends and good grades-- but that's where it finally hit me; Eliza may have had everything, but everything didn’t seem to want to have her. “Eliza felt alone in the crowd, and you were never in a crowd but you were so not-lonely that Eliza found someone she could turn to. Am I right?” 

“Not too far off, I’d imagine.” 

“Good,” Mr Lancaster leaned forward in his chair, writing on his notepad. “Now, something goes wrong. Eliza gets in a fight with her boyfriend or has a disagreement with one of her sisters-- something small. Then, she decides she can't take it the way it is, and up and disappears.” I very much wanted to interrupt, because your boyfriend cheating on you with your older sister, your best friend, is not a small and petty thing. Not to someone who had spent 99% of their time with their older sister, trading secrets and telling jokes. For the girl who burned every person but one that came too close, and having that one burn her? This was not a small thing. 

“And everyone has to have an outlet, right?” He seemed to want a reply, so I nodded. “Good. Now what could that outlet possibly be?” He looked at me for a moment, and in that bundle of seconds I knew that he thought one thing-- he thought that I knew where Eliza was. He had thought up the most ridiculous solution possible, and he seemed to believe it to be true. 

“I don't know,” I answered, then added, “sir,” for good measure. 

“I think that outlet would be the one girl that Eliza could trust. And I think that girl is you,” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong.” 

“If you're assuming that I could possibly, by some miracle, know where Eliza is,” I began. “Then you are so far off the tracks that I’m not even sure if you started on them in the first place.” Mr Lancaster almost cracked a smile-- almost. 

“My guess, is that you know where she is. You just dont know it yet.” 

“How could I possibly-” 

“I’ve worked every case for this girl-- that's five total missing person cases for the same girl that can’t seem to choose a place and stay there like the good girl she should be,” he started. “And in people like that, there's always an accomplice. She can’t bear to sit still for long enough to plan this all unless she starts it in her head and writes down exactly nothing.” 

“Eliza has never once asked me to be a part of anything that she’s done.” This, of course, was a lie. 

“I dont think so,” Mr Lancaster replied. “I think you’ve been part of one, at least. And I think I know what it was.” 

“I dont know what you’re talking about,” I replied, thankful for my skill of keeping a level-head. Mr Lancaster shook his head, and pulled a phone out of his pocket. He pulled up a photo, and handed the phone to me. The picture showed the light blue  _ e _ spray painted onto the wall in Peggy's room, the identically coloured  _ m _ next to it, albeit smaller. My shoulders slumped. 

“Look, I don’t know what you two managed to do last night, I don’t know who you went after, but I certainly would like to know,” he began. “And I would also like to say that I wouldn't wanna be those people.”

“You can't tell my parents.” 

“As long as you two didn’t kill anyone, then the story stays with you, me, Eliza, and that creepy clown painting in the corner.” And so I told him. I told him about Eliza somersaulting through my window, about lying to my mom to get tacos, about going to the store and going to Angelicas and going to Alexander's and going back to her house before burning the love letters at the campgrounds. I told him about dropping Eliza off at some time past midnight. I told him about  _ Goodbye, Maria. _ instead of  _ Goodnight, Maria. _ After I was finished telling, his face stayed in a way that said he was not quite finished listening. 

Finally, he said: “Maria, why did Eliza go after her sisters and boyfriend?” And suddenly the still listening face made sense. 

“Angelica slept with Alexander. Several times.” 

“And Peggy?” Mr Lancaster asked. 

“Peggy knew, apparently.” 

“Well,” Mr Lancaster said, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands. “This is definitely a new one.” 

\---

Mr Lancaster finally seemed satisfied that I had offered every bit of information I had, and he left with Eliza's father. “What an assface,” I said, after Mr Lancaster and Philip had left. “Abandoning his own daughter.” 

“It seems like Eliza abandoned him,” my father interjected, and I wanted to reply but didn’t seem to know how. Instead, I went upstairs, ignoring Jane Eyre. 

**Mammamiaitsmaria: Quinn, Sarah, you better get the fuck online right now before i explode**

**NotSarahJessicaParker: the mighty Quinn hath been usurped(she got grounded)**

**Mammamiaitsmaria: Eliza ran away**

**NotSarahJessicaParker: isn't this the twenty millionth time?**

**Mammamiaitsmaria: no, Sarah. But I was the last person to see her before she disappeared**

**NotSarahJessicaParker: That certainly adds to the mysteriousness in all of this**

**Mammamiaitsmaria: I want to find her**

**NotSarahJessicaParker: we all do. I gotta go, I’m being summoned**

I watched Sarah's icon change from a bright blue to a grey, signifying she had left. I closed the chat room, and shut my laptop, tilting the back of my head over my chair and blowing out a breath through my teeth. 

I knew full well that Eliza would not be found until she wanted to be-- she was too smart and non-stop for that, and any fault in her planning was always noticed. She was too well put together to be discovered before she had her chance to see everything and take it all in. Her mind worked like a constantly-changing jigsaw puzzle, making her forever the enigma. 

“Maria, dinner!” I groaned, turning out of my chair and rushing down the stairs. I helped myself to some of the spaghetti sitting on the counter, and sat down at the table with my parents, mid-conversation. 

“The car had much less gas this morning than it did when I came home,” my mother said, tucking some of her loose curls behind her ear. “I know that Maria went out for a bit, but this was a drastic change.” I ignored them, knowing that it was better for my fate if I couldn't process what they were saying. She finally came to a conclusion and changed to subject, and the political talk began again and I fully ignored them. I finished eating walked back into the kitchen and put my plate in the sink, before rushing back upstairs and poking through Jane Eyre before taking a shower. 

I pushed my wet hair away from my face and stared at myself in the mirror. I still  _ looked _ the same, but I didnt  _ feel _ the same. It was amazing how an event can so drastically change the way you look on the inside, but your outside seems exactly the same. 

I dragged myself into bed, rolling away from the window. Even though I knew it wasn’t going to happen, I desperately wished that Eliza would push open the window and somersault into my room one last time. 

\--- 

“So, Eliza's gone missing?” Quinn asked, as soon as I walked into school. Her trumpet case was hanging loosely in her hand, and her glasses were falling down her nose. “Sarah told me,’ she added, before I could ask.

“It sure seems like it.” I reached up, fixing Quinn's glasses. 

“Why do you want to find her?” Quinn questioned quietly. 

“Because I was the last person to see her before she up and disappeared. Wouldn’t you want to find her if that was the case?” Quinn was silent for a moment, before nodding. 

“I have to get to band,” she finally said, and rushed off, her trumpet case swinging behind her. I considered following her and sitting in on the early band rehearsal just to listen, but I decided that getting to class early and reading some more Jane Eyre. I beat the bell to my seat, and sat through the slowly-ticking clock. Finally, the cass ended and I was free for another ten minutes. I knew that Sarah and Quinn had second period together, so I could meet them outside of the band room and walk to their class, and still have enough time to get back to mine. 

I met Sarah and Quinn outside of band, and we made it halfway to their classroom before the last person in the world we expected to walk up to us, walked up to us. She stopped in front of our trio, holding her colour-coded folders against her chest like a lifeline, her short-cut curls falling in her eyes, and her face pulled down from lack of sleep. 

“Hi,” Peggy said. “I assume you know that Eliza has gone missing?” 

“We’re aware,” Sarah answered, a new kind of tone in her voice, and it was in that moment that I remembered Sarah's completely, totally, unadulterated crush on Peggy Schuyler. 

“Do you also know about what she pulled in my room?” Peggy asked, caution in her voice. “Because I still haven’t been able to clean it all up.” 

“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry about that, by the way.” 

“What did you-- oh, you’re the lowercase  _ m _ , aren't you?” She gave a half smile or realization, and let out a breathy laugh. 

“That would, in fact, be correct.” 

“I figured as much,” she said. “So, what exactly did Eliza have you help her with?” 

“I’m not exactly sure you’re the kind of person that Eliza would want me to tell, Peggy.” Her face fell, and the slight hope that had ignited in her eyes dimmed. 

“If it has to do with Angelica,” Peggy began, tightening her grip on the folders. “Then I didn’t know.” 

“How would you not know? Angelica is your sister,” Quinn butted in, raising her eyebrows. 

“Because no one told me,” she answered. “But John knew, and as soon as I found out I dumped him. I can't  _ believe  _ Angelica did that,” Peggy muttered, tapping her foot against the ground angrily. 

“Well if John-” Sarah began, but Quinn stomped on her foot, effectively shutting her up. 

“I told Angelica what I thought about what she did. I told her to put our sisterhood aside and that I’m not standing at her side. I’m with Eliza on this one, she didn’t deserve this.” Peggy’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and in that one moment I couldn’t think of anyone I wouldn't want to be less. Peggy had somehow lost both of her sisters in the span of twenty-four hours, both of them at the hands of the other, and it left Peggy alone.

“I believe you,” I finally said. “Come to my house after school, and I’ll explain everything. Okay, Peggy?” She nodded, and muttered something about needing to get to class before hurrying off, her folders still pressed to her chest. 

“I’m gonna ask her out,” Sarah said, as soon as Peggy was out of our general area. 

Quinn looked at her dumbfoundedly. “No,” she said, as thought this was the obvious answer, and shook her head a little. 

“Do not do the stupid thing,” I counseled. 

“Imma do the stupid thing,” Sarah said, and walked away. 

“She’s not even going in the direction of our class,” Quinn said, flabbergasted. “The complete and utter disregard she has to what's going on around her  _ amazes _ me sometimes.” 

\---

My mothers car was absent from the driveway when I arrived home that afternoon, so I knew that she had to be working late. Peggy had told me to expect her sometime around four, so I had just enough time to eat something before Peggy got here to discuss Eliza. 

I devoured a pop tart, and read some more Jane Eyre, before the doorbell rang and I answered it. Peggy was standing there, and had pulled her curls out of her face. “Hi, and thanks, Maria.” 

“It’s no problem.” She walked in, and stopped at the living room. 

“Where do you wanna talk at?” She asked, turning to face me. 

“Do you want to go up to my room, that way if my mom comes home while we’re talking, she doesn’t interrupt us?” Peggy nodded, and I let her follow me upstairs and into my room. She sat down crossed-legged on my chair, and I set of my bed, dangling my legs over the endboard. 

“So, what was Eliza's master plan?” Peggy asked, and I explained how Angelica had told Eliza about the affair. I told her how she came into my room, and brought me along to buy some things and execute some pranks. 

“Oh, shit,” I suddenly exclaimed, slapping a hand to my forehead. “There's a box of condoms in the drawer in your nightstand. Eliza was hoping that your dad would find them and tear you a new one.” 

Peggy had noticeably whitened, but only said, “noted.” I took her silence as a cue to continue, and so I did. She stopped me at the part about the campgrounds. 

“Eliza burned the letters? And you let her?” She exclaimed, colour coming back into her cheeks. 

“Peggy, you didn’t see her at the campgrounds. She was devastated, and nothing was going to stop her.” Peggy blew out a breath through her nose, and nodded at me to continue. I finished by telling her about  _ Goodbye, Maria. _ and Peggy looked at me strangely. 

“That's it?” She asked, her face scrunching up in confusion.                 

“That's all I know.” 

“She had to leave clues,” Peggy said, pulling at her hair with both her hands. “And I think she left them for you.” 

“Why for me?” And even as I asked it, I knew the answer: Eliza had no one else. Her boyfriend and sisters had wronged her, and they were the only people that she truly seemed to love. And so, she somersaulted into my window and brought me along because I was all she could have had left. 

“She didn’t trust Angelica and I, and she obviously didn’t trust Alexander. So who better than you?” Peggy answered, letting her hands drop from her hair as she shrugged. 

“What do we do now?”

“Now?” Peggy repeated, and a smirk lurked in the corners of her mouth and eyes. “Now we look.” 

 


	3. Burned Part Three

“But where exactly  _ do  _ we look?” I asked, propping my elbows on my knees. 

“Anywhere. Eliza is… unusual, and,” Peggy stopped, as if she was searching for a word. The smirk never left her face. “I'm not sure if there's a word for it.” 

“Go on,” I urged her, and she bit her lip. 

“Almost none of her clues have seemed to link up until you look at them side-by-side, or until you find the very last of her clues.”  

“Enigmatic,” I said, and Peggy nodded gratefully. 

“But, none of her clues quite made sense when you looked at them apart. She jumped from one extreme to another without explanation until they were put together in full.” 

“Interesting,” I remarked. “Where does she usually put clues?” 

“Anywhere and everywhere,” Peggy answered, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes were glittering intelligently, lighting their brown and crystallizing the colour.

“Can we start in her room?” 

Peggy tensed, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “Likely not.” 

“What?” I asked. “I'm sure Eliza wouldn't mind at this point-” 

“It's not that,” Peggy interjected. “My lovely father has locked her room and flushed the key down the toilet.” 

“What about her window?” Peggy stopped, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

“I didn't consider that,” Peggy said. “I haven't climbed that tree since Angelica fell out of it.” 

“That was scary-- for all of us.” It had been. Even though I had been in my room, Eliza's shouts had drifted through my open window. Angelica was eleven, Eliza was two weeks away from turning ten, and Peggy had still been eight. They had been too high in the tree, and a branch had snapped. Angelica lost her footing, and plummeted to the ground. When she didn't get up, Eliza jumped out of the tree-- something that should've broken her leg or ankle, but didn't-- and sprinted to get their parents. 

“Mom was still alive when it happened. I remember her sobbing,” Peggy said offhandedly. “Dad was more calm about it-- he  _ is _ a doctor, so that seemed to kick in. Mom, she stayed at home to raise us, so one of her girls being hurt like that-- she didn't have any special training.” I could vaguely remember Catherine crying, Eliza and Peggy clinging to her. 

“They said that Angelica shouldn’t’ve lived. They said she should've died from the impact, but she didn't,” Peggy said, and I knew by the set in her jaw that she was ready to move on from the subject. 

“We should get to your house and get into Eliza's room,” I suggested, standing up and pushing my hair away from my face. “Before your dad gets home.” Peggy nodded, getting up from the chair. 

We walked down the stairs, and I scribbled a quick note on a loose piece of paper to tell my parents that I was going to Peggy's. I may not have been sharing the whole story, but it was enough of a truth to keep them from being suspicious. 

We walked across the street, and walked up to the tree. Peggy took a deep breath, before stepping onto it first. I followed after her as soon as she was high enough, reusing her foot and handholds. Soon enough, we had pulled ourselves onto the blue shingled roof, and walked carefully across it. 

She pushed at the window, and it, mercifully, opened fluidly. She pulled herself in, and I followed, looking around Eliza's room. 

The walls were painted a pretty blue, with pictures hanging on the walls and pinned to a cork board. Her bed was pushed against one wall, a dresser perpendicular to it. Parallel to the bed, a heavy desk was set against the wall with a matching chair, a colourful cushion resting on it. Pinned to the wall above the desk was a huge map of the United States, next to it a map of New York. Pins were pushed into both maps, in two different colours. 

“I don't remember either of these maps being here,” Peggy remarked, walking towards the desk and running her fingertips over it. “But I haven't been in here in weeks.” 

“The tacks are two different colours-- green and red,” I pointed out. Peggy looked at it again. 

“Wait,” she said. She climbed on top of the desk, crouching down. “There's a pin in Honolulu-- we went there as a family when Eliza was seven. Oh, and another in Los Angeles. That was two years ago.” Peggy looked over the map again. “Little Rock. Indianapolis. Houston. These are all places that we've visited, except,” Peggy ran her fingers over the map. “Ooh, I've never been to Chesapeake Bay, but Eliza has. It's marked with a green tack.” 

“So, places she's visited are green, places she hasn't are red,” I inferred. “And since the rest of the map isn't covered in red tacks, we have to assume that the red pins are marking places she  _ wants  _ to visit.” 

Peggy pointed at me, smiling approvingly. “Good one, you have to be right.” She moved on, looking over the map of New York. 

“Yeah, Manhattan, Brooklyn. These pins are skinnier, so it's probably for precise places. Like the Statue of Liberty, it's marked with a green pin. We've been there, all of us.” 

I look back over the New York map, and my eyes caught on something. “Pegs, this tack is yellow.” She looked up, immediately spotting the yellow pin. 

“I… don't know where that is,” she said, and looked at it again. “There's not even a name of the town or tourist trap that's pinned there.” 

I looked at it again, looking at the places around it. Suddenly, it clicked. “That's the campground,” I announced, and Peggy turned to me. 

“You mean the one that's no longer in commission?” Peggy asked, looking me in the face. “The one you two burned those letters at?” 

“Yeah, see where it's at?” Peggy looked again, and realization dawned on her face. 

“There's something there. Has to be.” Peggy looked me in the eye, and cracked a ginormous smile. She pulled me into a hug, wrapping her arms snugly around my neck. “I'm so glad you agreed to trust me, I just want my sister back,” she whispered, before pulling away and hopping off of Eliza's desk. 

“How soon can we go to the campgrounds?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and looking at me intently. 

“I can't go during a school night,” I said, and Peggy frowned. 

“What about a school day?” Peggy suggested, a cunning smirk slowly replacing the frown. 

“Wouldn't we be, y'know, in school?” 

“Not if we skip. I've done it before,” she said plainly. “Come on, it won't kill you.” I weighed the options in my head, making a mental list of pros and cons as Peggy gave me her best puppy eyes. 

“Okay, yeah. Let me talk to Sarah and Quinn about it, they'll want to come.” 

“I'll make a rebel out of you yet, Lewis.” Peggy said.

\---

I called Sarah, and she picked up almost immediately. “We’re skipping school tomorrow,” I said. 

“Who's  _ we’re _ ?” 

“You, me, Peggy-” 

“Okay,” Sarah agreed. “I'll tell Quinn.” 

“You only agreed because of Peggy, didn't you?” 

“Absolutely,” I could hear the smirk in her voice, and I chuckled. 

“Alright, be sure to let Quinn know. Tell her it has to do with Eliza.” 

Sarah didn't reply for a second, then she said, “I want you to know, that I nodded like you could see me.” And hung up. 

\---

I had no clue how I was going to get out of going to school. I decided that it was probably best to convince my mom that I  _ was  _ at school instead of at the campgrounds. 

She dropped me off, and I immediately spotted Peggy's car parked in the parking lot. It look like Peggy was still in it, and I walked over, knocking on the window. 

“Get in, we have to pick up Sarah and Quinn,” she said, after rolling the window down. I opened the door, and sat down in the passenger seat. 

“Where are they?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt before Peggy drove off. 

“They're at Quinn's house. They decided to officially get excused from school, instead of going the route you and I did,” she said, and licked her lips. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.” 

“Is Sarah a good person?” She asked, hesitation in her tone as she stared at the road. 

“Can you clarify your meaning?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows together. 

“I mean exactly what I asked. Is she a good person?” 

“She's a bit… different, but she's definitely a good person,” I answered. “ _ Why _ ?” 

“She sort of asked me out,” Peggy answered. “And I told her I'd think about it ‘cause I haven't got a clue if she's some sort of axe murderer.” 

“I promise she's  _ not _ an axe murderer.” 

“That's relieving.” Peggy pulled up in front of Quinn's house, and we walked in. 

“Quinn, we’re here!” She emerged from the living room, Sarah directly behind her. 

“Hi, Peggy,” Sarah said, waving sheepishly. She blushed a furious shade of red when Peggy waved back, smiling brightly at her. 

“Okay, we have to get to the camp grounds and scour the area for clues. I'll drive,” I said, and Peggy tossed me the keys. Quinn sat in the passenger seat, leaving Sarah and Peggy to sit together in the back. 

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Peggy announced that she was exhausted. “I spent all night looking at her maps on the walls, I only got a few hours of sleep.” 

“Take a nap,” I suggested. “It's your car.” 

Peggy looked at Sarah, “do you mind?” She asked, tilting her forehead towards her. 

“Not at all.” Peggy rested her head on Sarah's shoulder, taking her glasses off and closing her eyes. Not long after, Sarah's eyes fluttered shut and she drifted off, her cheek resting against the top of Peggy's head.

I noticed Quinn's eyebrows fly up in my peripheral vision, and had to suppress a laugh at her reaction. “How did that even happen?”

“Beyond my limited knowledge,” I answered. We spent the rest of the ride in silence, attempting to let Sarah and Peggy sleep peacefully. We pulled up to the campgrounds, and I stopped the car, taking the keys out of the ignition. We turned to look back at Sarah and Peggy. They were in much the same position as the had been, Peggy's head resting on Sarah's shoulder, Sarah leaning against her ever so slightly. 

“They look  _ very _ cute,” I pointed out, and Quinn nodded. “I don't want to wake them up.” 

“I don't want to wake them, either.” 

“Not it,” I whispered, and Quinn groaned. She reached back, hitting Sarah on her knee, and she startled awake. 

“Whosawha?” Sarah muttered intelligently, and blinked. “Why did you wake me up?” She asked, giving us an accusatory glance. 

“Because we're at the campgrounds. Get Peggy up,” I said, turning around and opening the door, Quinn mirroring my movements. Eventually, Peggy and Sarah emerged from the car, Peggy’s glasses back on her face. 

“What're we looking for, exactly?” Sarah asked, stretching the sleep out of her limbs. 

“Anything that wouldn't belong in a campground,” Peggy answered, before scrunching up her face. “And maybe even stuff that  _ would _ be found in a campground. Just, anything that seems interesting.” 

“Pair off, just in case we come in contact with danger?” I suggested, winking at Quinn. 

“Absolutely,” Quinn agreed. “I'll go with Maria.” She looped her arm through mine, and we walked towards the boys cabins. 

“D’you think there's really anything here?” Quinn asked, as we walked into the first of the three cabins. Old bunk beds lined the walls, with moth-bitten blue and white pinstriped blankets and water stained pillows. A wooden dresser was pushed against the wall across from the door, and it was practically falling apart. 

“Oh, I really don't want to touch  _ anything _ in here,” Quinn announced, attempting to back out before I stopped her. 

“We have to look,” I said, and took a few steps forward. I peeled back the blankets on the first bunk bed, revealing the mattress, equally as water stained as the pillow. There was nothing worthwhile, and I moved on. Quinn, after gathering her wits, started on the other side of the room, peeling back the blankets and scanning the yellowed mattress. 

“There's nothing in here, Maria,” Quinn said, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Let's go somewhere that smells less like mold.” 

“Lemme check the dresser.” I pulled open the top drawer, completely empty, albeit the slightest bit moldy. The next drawer was the same, and the bottom drawer contained a dead rat. 

“Dude, that is gross,” Quinn said, cringing. “Close the goddamn drawer before I vomit all over the corpse of that unfortunate rodent.” I closed the drawer, and we moved onto the next cabin. Everything was nearly identical in all of the cabins, safe for the varying degrees of water damage. 

We walked to the girls side of the camp, and found Peggy and Sarah in the second cabin. “We haven't checked the third, yet,” Peggy said, while pulling back the pink blankets on a disgusting looking mattress. “You can go look, keep yourselves busy.” We left Peggy and Sarah alone, moving onto the final cabin. 

We pushed open the door, and walking in I immediately noticed a CD propped on a pillow. I walked forward, grabbing it and turning it over to look at the back. 

“Goodbye Marie,” Quinn read aloud. The song title was circled in sharpie haphazardly, nearly catching the top half of the song title beneath it. “Almost sounds like Maria.” 

“And that's Eliza's bunk,” I pointed out, nodding towards the  _ e _ scratched into the wall crookedly, 

“It's definitely her doing,” Quinn agreed. 

“Let's go show the lovebirds,” I said. 

“Hey, Peggy has not accepted yet,” Quinn pointed out, and I chuckled. 

“But she will,” I sing-songed, and she nodded. We walked back into the cabin that Sarah and Peggy had been in. 

“Look at what we found,” I announced, and Peggy turned to face me. She caught sight of the CD case in my hand, and came towards me, grabbing it. 

“Goodbye Marie,” Peggy read aloud. “Do you know this song?” She asked, turning to me with a quizzical expression on her face. 

“I know it,” Sarah said. “By Kenny Rogers. It's something along the lines of leaving a woman he was with for three weeks, but he fell in love with her,” Sarah explained, all of us with our mouths slightly open. “Ya know,  _ it was fun Marie - I gotta run Marie _ that's what it was about.” 

“You are absolutely amazing,” Peggy said, placing a kiss on her cheek, and Sarah began to blush furiously. 

“No,” she assured. “My parents just like strange music.” 

“Is there anything specific in the song, Sarah?” Quinn asked. 

“Well, the song ends by saying  _ I'll be back in Houston  _ but-” 

“She could be in Houston,” I said, a mix of giddiness and victory turning in my stomach. 

“No,” Peggy said. “The one similar thing about Eliza's disappearances is that they have always been to revolutionary war sites, or to places that have to do with that timeframe. Houston isn't one of those.” 

“This isn't the final clue, then,” Quinn pointed out the obvious, but I knew it was her need to think out loud. “Okay, we're going to go back to Peggy's, sit in Eliza's room, listen to this song, and study her maps.” 

No one was going to argue with Quinn's plan, and so I said, “Let's do this.” 

\---

We scrambled in through Eliza's window again, Peggy muttering apologies as she helped each of us through it after climbing in herself. 

“So this is the famous map,” Quinn said, looking at the map of the US. “Eliza is so meticulous, it's  _ amazing _ .” 

“Yeah,” Peggy agreed. “Maria and I deduced that green means already been there, and red means an intention to go there.” 

“There's no red pin on Houston,” Quinn said, confirming Peggy's remark about Eliza not being in Houston. 

“Write down all the places that have red pins on them,” Sarah suggested. “Maria, play that damn song.” 

I walked over to Eliza's laptop. “Would Eliza care if I used it?” Peggy shook her head, and I opened her laptop. Luckily, it didn't ask for a password and I searched the song online. 

I pulled up a recording, and pressed play. Kenny Rogers voice flooded the room, and Sarah mumbled along with the words quietly. After a few minutes, the song concluded. 

“What lyrics match up to you and Eliza's night?” Sarah asked. 

“Well, saying  _ Goodbye Maria _ to me, like the song title.  _ Out the window there's a lonesome highway callin' me _ , Eliza left, so that's a bit similar,” I stopped, biting my lip. “ _ It was fun Marie - I gotta run Marie _ again, very similar.” No one replied, as if they were expecting more. “And that's about it.” 

“Interesting,” Peggy said, before turning back to the paper she had been writing on with Quinn. 

“Check which of these are revolutionary war sites, or had ties with the founding fathers.” 

“Well, I know that Yorktown is, I think Trenton is, that's in New Jersey,” Quinn said, tapping the pencil against her chin. She began to pace around the room while she spoke, and Peggy moved to sit on Eliza's bed with Sarah. 

“Weehawken-- hasn't she already been there?” Peggy nodded, and Quinn bit her lip and suppressed a groan. “Fort Constitution, New Hampshire. Mount Vernon, of course-” 

“What's Mount Vernon?” Sarah asked, crinkling her nose. 

“George Washington's house, love,”  Peggy answered, and Sarah nodded.  

“Then we have… Boston, that one is no surprise. Philadelphia-- again, no surprise.” 

“You know what, this is only making our chances of finding her seem smaller,” I pointed out, and Peggy sighed, leaning her head on Sarah's shoulder. 

“I agree, Maria,” Peggy said. “I miss her, she needs to come home.” 

“We all miss her,” Sarah said, throwing an arm around Peggy's shoulder casually. 

“She's the only of my sisters that I’d trust anymore, Angelica hurt Eliza in a way that I  _ never _ thought possible for her.” As Peggy spoke, her voice took on an edged tone, like a person very close to crying that instead chose to turn the sadness and anger into purpose; and Peggy had found it. “I think if I see Angelica again, I may lose it.” 

“You haven't seen her?” 

“Since before all of this,” she said. “The last I saw her was prom-- of course, Angelica had already graduated so she wasn't going, but she wanted to see Eliza and I.” 

“I'm sorry,” I said, picking at my fingernails. 

“Don't be. Not like you knew, I sure didn't,” she said, copying Eliza's exact words when I had told her the same thing just a few nights ago. “Angelica seemed too…  _ perfect  _ to do that.” There it was again-- the idea that Angelica was too perfect to wrong anyone, and  _ she would never do this to her sister  _ and that had been the very downfall that had made Eliza disappear. 

“Oh, crap,” Peggy suddenly said, pushing her palms into her eyes. “I have a party to go to tonight.” 

“Ooh, cool kid parties. A whole other world,” Quinn said, her lack of interest being very obviously shown. 

“I promised I'd go, and maybe someone there will have an idea about Eliza,” Peggy muttered. “But, I still want to stay in and stare at this map until  _ something _ makes sense.” 

“That's not good for you,” I pointed out, even though I wanted to do it as much as her. Maybe even more. “We're going to this party. Maybe it'll help us get an idea of Eliza.” It was hard to imagine her as everyone else saw her-- a girl that went to parties and drank unnamed alcohols and kissed her boyfriend in a secluded corner. It was equally as difficult to imagine her having had this all ripped away from her by her sister, having her whole high-school identity dissolved so easily. 

“I'll go,” Sarah said, and we turned to look at Quinn. Finally, she noticed us looking at her, and she gave us a half-quizzical, half-sarcastic look, and said, “what?” 

“You're going to a party with us,” Peggy said, raising her eyebrows. “It's been unanimously decided.” 

“Unanimously means that all of us decided,” Quinn argued. 

“But you're going to accept in just a minute,” Peggy said. “Because you have never really been to a party and you're  _ super _ curious about it.” 

Quinn was quiet for a very long time, before saying, “goddammit, she's right.” 

\---

“This is the place?” I asked, as Peggy pulled into a long driveway, which lead to a huge house, likely lived in by a resident of cool kid land. 

“Yeah,” Peggy replied. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I know that staring at those maps all night isn't good. But being here just feels  _ wrong _ .”

“I know,” Sarah answered. “We only need to be there for a few minutes.” 

Peggy nodded, pulling her curls out of her face. “Let's do this.” She pushed open her car door, and we followed her up to the front door of the house, walking in. 

“What do people usually do at parties?” Sarah asked. 

“They drink several exotically named alcohols, and make out in corners,” Peggy answered, rolling her eyes. “Eliza  _ hates _ these parties.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep. She only even showed up ‘cause it was Alexander's scene,” Peggy said, picking up beers and passing them to us. “These will help you blend in better.” 

“You mentioned making out in corners earlier?” Sarah brought up, and Peggy snorted, rolling her eyes. 

“Maybe if you're lucky,” Peggy replied, winking at her. 

“That's disgusting. I'm gonna go find the bathroom,” Quinn said, and grabbed Sarah's wrist, yanking her along. 

“Guess it's just you and I,” I said, setting the beer down. “I'm deciding to remain the smart sober friend that keeps the less-smart drunk friends from doing dumb things.” 

“But- oh  _ hell _ no,” Peggy said, cutting herself off. I followed her line of sight, spotting Angelica and Alexander in the corner, kissing with such a fervor that it was surprising they weren't already naked. We watched for what felt like too long of a moment as Alexander's hands slid up her shirt, before Peggy let out a small noise of disgust. She set her drink down. 

“ _ Angelica _ !” She shouted, and Alexander broke away from her. He caught sight of the look on Peggy's face, a pure fury solidified in her eyes, and ran off. 

“Peggy…” 

“How  _ could _ you, Angelica?” Peggy asked, and I knew she wasn't waiting for an answer. “Do you have any idea what you've done to Eliza? To me? You hurt my sister, and you hurt her  _ bad _ .” 

“I-” 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Peggy's eyes glittered dangerously, and Angelica set her jaw. “Do you want to know what I did when I found out what you'd done? I got up to check on Eliza and make sure she was alright, and you know what happened? I walked into her room, and she was  _ gone _ .” Peggy's voice cracked, and she stopped for a moment. “I ran through the whole house, searching for her, before realizing that she had disappeared, and I knew that it was because of you!” 

“Just  _ listen _ to me!” 

“What explanation could you possibly have to justify what you've done?” 

“I loved him first, Peggy,” she said, and Peggy's face contorted into a look that was pure disgust, but Angelica continued. “I told myself that I would step back, and let Eliza have him, but then I couldn't anymore.” 

“Angelica, if you think I would forgive after you've said that, then you're so pathetically wrong,” Peggy said. “I love my sister more than anything in this life-” 

“I'm your sister, too.” 

“No,” Peggy said, shaking her head. “Put our sisterhood aside, I'm standing at her side. You can never be satisfied.” Peggy took a deep breath. “God I hope you're satisfied.” She turned away from Angelica, her eyes glittering with unshed tears and hurried off, covering her mouth. 

“Maria,” Angelica began. “You understand, don't you?” 

“No, not really,” I said back. “I really, really,  _ really _ don't understand how someone could first betray one sister, then look the other in the eye and say that what you've done is justified. So yeah, I really  _ don’t _ understand.” I walked off after Peggy, hoping to find her before anyone else did. 

I finally found her in a closet in the basement, due to opening it under the assumption it was a bathroom. 

“You alright?” I asked, toeing the edge of her shoe. 

“No,” Peggy answered. “Does it  _ seem _ like I'm alright?” I walked into the closet, sitting down and crossing my legs together. 

“Not really.” 

“I mean, it was one thing to hear about Angelica doing all this. It was another thing to see it.” Peggy shook her head. “Angelica is lucky I didn't punch her in the face.” 

“You should have,” I said, before I could stop myself. Peggy laughed. 

“I  _ wanted _ to, but I figured it'd be best to take the high ground.” 

“You did great. That was a verbal bitch-slap of epic proportions,” I complimented, and she laughed again. 

“C’mon, let's get out of this closet, it smells like mothballs.” 

“Yeah, and you want some time to make out with Sarah in a corner.” 

“Shut up,” Peggy replied intelligently. 

\---

“Where even are they?” I asked, looking around the party for any sign of Quinn and Sarah. 

“Right there, in the corner.” 

I snorted. “The perfect setting for you and Sarah.” Peggy ignored me as we walked towards them. They both had apparently abandoned their beers, trading them out for Pepsi’s.

“Peggy, I heard about what you said to Angelica,” Quinn began, and Peggy ignored her altogether, walking straight towards Sarah. She pushed Sarah against the wall, pressing her mouth to Sarah's as Quinn's jaw dropped.

“ _ No way _ ,” Quinn whispered, hitting my arm as Sarah tangled her fingers into Peggy's hair. “Whatishappening?” 

“I'm not totally sure,” I whispered back. “Wanna go wait in the car?” 

“Yeah that's probably a good idea,” Quinn agreed, and practically pulled me out to the car. 

\---

“That was strange,” I remarked, sitting in the backseat with Quinn. “Like, on a scale of one to ten, that was an eleven.” 

Quinn shook her head, taking a sip of her Pepsi. “It was a fourteen.” 

“Honestly, we should have been expecting it. We watched them flirt for  _ hours  _ on end and it never clicked.” 

“We’re such virgins that we can't even sense sexual tension.” I snorted, and Quinn took another sip from her Pepsi. “The temptation to leave them there is very strong.” 

“But we're good friends. Good friends wouldn't do that,” I pointed out, and Quinn shrugged. “Peggy has the keys, anyway.” 

“And it's what, eleven?” Quinn asked, and I checked the time on my phone. 

“11:22”

“I'm going to sleep.” She stretched out, throwing her legs over my lap. I found a blanket that was shoved under the seat, and threw it over the both of us. 

“Goodnight,” I muttered. 

“Likewise,” Quinn responded. I leaned my head against the cool window, closing my eyes. Not even ten minutes later, the car doors opened, Peggy and Sarah sitting down. 

“Well, well, well,” Quinn said, not even bothering to sit up or open her eyes. “What  _ have _ we here?” 

“Be nice to them,” I urged, when neither Peggy or Sarah replied. I opened my eyes, long enough to see that both of them were blushing a furious shade of red, and Peggy had dark bruises littering her neck and collarbone. “Have fun covering those up tomorrow, Pegs.” 

“Shut up,” she mumbled, before turning the car on and backing out of the long driveway. I leaned my cheek against the cool window again, and I closed my eyes, the movement of the car lolling me to sleep. 

\---

I made it back into my house, and up to my room. I didn't even bother with a shower, choosing instead to change from jeans into fuzzy pajama pants, and I crawled into bed. It was amazing how much tonight contrasted from the night with Eliza. That was arguably the latest I had ever stayed up, and I never never felt so not-tired than I had with her. But, now here I was, at 11:41 at night, and I was so exhausted that my whole body felt weighted down. 

I closed my eyes, and sleep overtook me easily. 

\--- 

The days went by in a slow, repetitive pattern like the beating of a bass drum keeping tempo. I spent my free time in Eliza's room with Peggy, studying her map and listening to Goodbye Marie at a volume that would attract Mr Schuyler to the room. 

Graduation began to creep closer, and finals were hitting us hard. Quinn reinstated her mandatory locking-myself-in-my-room-to-study technique, and we heard from her less and less until finals had passed and we were finally  _ free _ .

On the morning of graduation, I walked downstairs in my red, knee-length dress that I had went with Sarah, Quinn, and Peggy to pick out. 

“We're so proud of you, honey,” my mom said, fiddling with something behind her back. “And since you won't be going to college straight out of high school, we figured the best we could do was help you with transportation.” My face scrunched up.  _ Transportation _ left two options: either mom was driving me everyday, or… 

“We got you a car, ‘Ria,” my dad said, and mom handed me the box from behind her back. 

“No way,” I breathed out. I pulled the top off the box, and looked at the key. 

“It's a used car, but we figured you would find it useful,” he explained, and I pulled them both into a grateful hug. 

“Let me help you get any of your things out of my car,” mom offered. “Since you're just the slightest bit disorganized.” I nodded, and she walked me outside. I caught sight of my new car, an old-model Buick painted a silvery-white colour, and followed mom to her car. 

I pulled open the backseat, and checked throughout it. I grabbed a few miscellaneous things, and reached my hand under the seat to make sure there was nothing left. I felt something soft, and grabbed it, pulling it out from its spot wedged under the seat. It was a black hoodie, and smelled of flowers and vanilla;  _ Eliza _ . 

I didn't even notice that she had ditched her hoodie and left it in the car, and I felt a conglomeration of feelings growing in my stomach. 

I unbunched the hoodie, shaking it out. Nothing fell out, and I reached my hand inside the first pocket; nothing. The second pocket was my last hope, and I reached in; my fingers closed around a piece of paper, and I could almost scream. 

The paper was folded haphazardly, the edges unaligned and the paper crumbled, and I could see the indented marks from the point of a pen, the ink showing through in small glimpses. 

I dropped the hoodie, and unfolded the paper with shaking hands. It was a printout of the lyrics of Goodbye Marie, but only  _ this had writing on it _ . 

Notes had been made, words crossed out and changed. My heart rate sped up, and I chewed at my lipstick covered lips. At the bottom of the paper, the word Houston(this time tomorrow, I'll be back in Houston)had been crossed out, and replaced with one word: 

_ Monticello _ . 


	4. Burned Part Four

_ Ohmygodohmygodohmygod _

I grabbed my phone from the seat, immediately dialing Peggy's number. She picked up, and I cut her off halfway through the word  _ hello _ . 

“ElizasinMonticellowehavetogogetherrightnow,” I said in one long string of words. 

“Eliza's what?” Peggy repeated. 

“In Monticello.” 

“Oh my fuck,” Peggy exclaimed. “I'm putting you on speaker.” She did, and I heard Sarah and Quinn's voices come through, both demanding to know what was going on. 

“Eliza's in Monticello!” I yelled. 

“How in the  _ fuck _ did you figure that out?” Quinn demanded. 

“She left her hoodie in the car and the lyrics for the song and Monticello was written on it and-” 

“That's good enough for me,” Sarah cut in. “Can we go?” 

“We have graduation,” Quinn pointed out, a stinging undertone in her voice. “I think that takes importance over finding Eliza.” 

“Nothing takes importance over my sister,” Peggy replied. “I'm going. And besides, how long can someone really spend in Monticello? Especially Eliza, who gets bored of places quickly.” I heard Quinn groan. 

“Fine, I'm going,” she agreed. “Sarah?” Silence lapsed into the phone. 

“She nodded, Maria,” Peggy finally said, and I snorted. “You'll have to come pick us up.” 

“I'm coming.” Luckily, my mom had already went back inside, meaning she didn't hear any of that exchange. 

I walked back in the house and up to my parents. “I'm going on a roadtrip,” I said, and my mom's eyebrows knit together. 

“What do you mean, Maria?” She asked. 

“I mean I'm not going to graduation and I'm actually going to Monticello. It's in Virginia and I have to go.” 

“You have to go to graduation,” my dad said, warning in his tone. 

“I'm an adult.” I  _ really _ didn't want to use the  _ I’m-An-Adult _ card, but I didn't see many other choices. 

“Maria, you will regret not attending graduation,” my father cautioned. “A lot.” 

“I think I'll be fine,” I replied. “I love you, see you soon.” I walked out the door, got into the driver's seat of my own car, and headed towards the school. 

\---

I pulled up outside of the school, where they were waiting for me, and let them jump in. Quinn managed to get the passenger seat. Peggy and Sarah sat in the back. 

“If you two start to make out, I will leap from the window of this moving vehicle,” Quinn said, and Peggy rolled her eyes. I drove off, while Quinn programmed the GPS on her phone. 

“Oh shit,” Peggy suddenly said. “We don't have anything with us.” 

“Fuck,” Quinn muttered. “Okay, Peggy, what do you have in your purse?” 

“Uh,” she upended it onto the seat next to her. “My credit card, some gum, a pen, a few tampons thirty-four dollars and… Sarah, can you count those coins for me? My cleaning cloth for my glasses-” 

“Can I use that?” Quinn asked, and Peggy passed it to her. 

“What else, Pegs?” 

“A picture of Eliza and I, an old receipt, and that's it.” 

“You have three dollars and ninety-two cents, by the way,” Sarah announced. 

“So we have a credit card, thirty-seven dollars and ninety-two cents in means of money?” 

“Right you are,” Peggy answered. 

“We're going to have to become strippers,” Quinn muttered, likely assuming that no one heard her. 

“We’re not going to become strippers, Quinn,” Peggy replied. 

“Sounds fake but okay,” Quinn mumbled. “What do you suppose we do, then?” 

“This drive will take, what, seven hours? Monticello will closed by the time we reach Charlottesville, so where will be sleep?” 

“There's hotels that go for 85 a night,” Quinn said. “Do we want to pay that for just going to find Eliza?” Quinn turned around the look at Peggy and Sarah. 

“Not really,” said Sarah. “Is sleeping in the car completely out of the question?” 

“We could get a ticket,” Peggy cautioned. 

“It'll be fine-ish,” I pointed out. I didn't have a problem paying a ticket if it meant finding Eliza and bringing her home. 

“Y’know, if we find a place that's open 24 hours and ask the owner if we can crash in the parking lot in our car, then they might be alright with it,” Quinn suggested. “My cousins did it once.” 

“You really think we could get away with that?” I asked, chewing my lip. I knew I was liking messing up my red lipstick, but I didn't exactly care. 

“I do.” 

“It's worth a shot,” I decided, taking a deep breath. “What are we going to do for food?” 

“Hit up a gas station,” Peggy answered, looking at Quinn. 

“There's one coming up in six miles,” Quinn answered, setting her phone down. 

“I'm going to organize a list of what we need,” Peggy announced, typing on her phone as Sarah made comments over her shoulder every so often. 

I pulled into the gas station parking lot just as Peggy finished the list. I was, apparently, on junk food duty(“cheetos, candy, chips. Get it  _ all _ .”) 

“Do you think they'll question the four nicely dressed girls walking into a gas station like this?” Sarah asked, pulling at the skirt on her dark blue dress. 

“No,” Quinn answered, and pushed open the door to the gas station. She walked down an aisle selling souvenirs for New Jersey-- everything from pillows to keychains to t-shirts. “They just might hit on us inappropriately.” 

Peggy rolled her eyes, and went towards the aisle with drinks. I grabbed a basket and walked down the aisle with junk food, grabbing chips and candy and anything else I could fit in the basket before I set it down on the counter in front of the checkout guy. 

Quinn emerged, carrying New Jersey tshirts and- 

“Quinn, are those leggings?” She nodded. “In a gas station?” 

“We pride ourselves on our unique selection of items,” the guy behind the counter, whose name tag read Jordan, replied. “You will never find another gas station like this anywhere in the world.” 

“Thanks, man,” Quinn said, looking towards the drinks aisle desperately. “What's taking them so long?” 

“Not a clue,” I answered. Finally, they appeared from the drinks aisle, carrying a plethora of brightly colored energy drinks, and Peggy had a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow that had water bottled rolling around in it. 

“Are you four trying to clear out my store?” Jordan asked. 

“No, just scan these so we can be on our way,” Peggy replied, dumping the drinks onto the counter for Jordan to scan. We stood there, Peggy tapping her nails against the counter, as Jordan took far too long to scan everything. 

Finally, he finished, and Peggy paid. We carried everything out to the car, and hit the road again. Peggy announced she was going to take a nap, and she dozed off with her head on Sarah's shoulder. 

“Maria,” Quinn whispered, taking a look back at Sarah and Peggy. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if Eliza isn't there anymore? Or if she is, what if she doesn't want to come back with us?” Quinn asked. 

I stayed silent. 

I had never once considered the fact that Eliza may not want to come back, or that she wouldn't be there. It all seemed to incredibly and catastrophically impossible to even consider that Eliza wouldn't want to come back. But now, as I sat and drove, I thought for the first time;  _ what if she didn't want to come back _ ? After all, Angelica was still there, was still with Alexander. Angelica had poisoned Manhattan for Eliza, spread a cruel, emotional cyanide, and I knew one thing for certain: as long as Angelica still walked the sidewalks there, Eliza never would again. 

“Maria?” Quinn whispered, and I felt her cold hand on my arm. 

“I'm fine, just…” I took a deep breath. “Just worried about Peggy. She'll crash and burn if Eliza doesn't come back.” 

“Maria-” 

“She's not eighteen, I mean, she did get to graduation with us because she kicked ass to graduate early, but she's still only seventeen and won't be able to stay with Eliza even if she wants to and-” 

“It's okay to be worried for yourself,” Quinn muttered. “I know you're worried about Peggy, Eliza is her sister, but it's okay to be worried about yourself.” Quinn reassured, squeezing my arm softly.

I didn't say anything, I didn't think I could manage it. 

\---

“Maria, you've been driving for a few hours,” Peggy said. “Take a break.” 

We hadn't yet crossed into Virginia. We had hit traffic just outside of Philadelphia, and it had slowed us down dramatically. We had lost nearly two hours, and I was determined to keep driving. 

“We’re an hour outside of Wilmington, with the traffic.” 

“You have no sense of self preservation,” Peggy scolded, clicking her tongue. “Let one of us drive for a bit.” 

“I'm alright, Pegs.” I didn't want to stop driving because I didn't want to give myself a chance to sit still and think. “I like driving, and it's my car, anyway.” 

Peggy looked skeptical, but she nodded. “If you say so, Ria.” Peggy settled back in her seat, and closed her eyes again. 

I kept driving. 

\---

“Maria, that's it, we're pulling in somewhere and you're getting some sleep,” Quinn demanded, glaring at me. “You have been driving for five straight hours, and if I know you, then I know you're running on three hours of sleep.” 

I took a deep breath. I  _ was _ exhausted, and craving sleep, but I was still afraid of sitting still and finally being able to think about things besides the speed limit and stop signs. 

“Okay, yeah. Let's pick a place and go with the plan from the beginning of the trip.” Quinn nodded, and directed me to a small 24 hour convenience store. After I pulled in she got out to ask the owner if we could crash out there, and returned, nodding her head. 

“He's letting us crash here, but he wants us out before sunrise.” She grabbed one of the NJ tshirts and a pair of leggings, and walked back into the store, probably to change. 

I didn't want to fall asleep without changing out of dress. The red looked good on me, but after being in it for so long, it began to be uncomfortable. 

Quinn came back in, and threw her deep purple dress into a bag. “Go change, you need sleep.” She reached back, grabbing me the shirt and leggings that were left, and I walked into the gas station. 

“Are you one of those young ladies that needed a place to crash?” I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice. I hadn't noticed the cashier sitting behind the till, and he smiled knowingly. “What're you girls running away from?” 

“We aren't running from anything, sir.” 

“I've seen many people come through here. I've worked this counter since I was seventeen years old. That was sixty-two years ago,” he said, leaning forward in his elbows. “Every now and again, people come through here. People with a look behind their eyes and an adrenaline lying on their skin that says they're either running from something, or  _ for _ something.” He looked at me, and I felt like he was seeing through me. “So, what're you running about?” 

“I'm helping a friend run,” I answered, not moving from my spot. 

“Ah, but I get the sense that you and your friend are running to the same thing, only for different reasons.” 

“Yes, sir, we are,” I answered, not totally sure why. 

“So, what're  _ you _ running for? Love? Money? Drugs?” 

“I'm… I’m not quite sure anymore.” 

“I think you could do yourself a favour and think on it,” he said. “Here, take some. Share ‘em with your friends, or don't, it's up to you.” He tossed me a bag filled with butterscotch candies, and I caught them. 

“Figure out what you're running for.” 

\--- 

I ducked into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. I spun around, pressing my back against the cold door. I blew out a breath, closing my eyes. 

_ I’m not quite sure anymore _ echoed in my head. Was I not as sure as I thought? The whole point of the roadtrip-- of skipping graduation and losing sleep and driving for hours upon hours, was for Elizabeth Schuyler. But were we truly sure about Eliza? 

Against my better judgement, I slid down the door, sitting on the cracked tile of the gas station bathroom. I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling. I knew that Eliza was as unpredictable as the wind, but I had never considered being unsure of her. Her clues lead to a solid, reliable place, but did that mean that she was solid and reliable? No, it didn't. 

I wanted to sit on the floor of the gas station and cry, but I had a car with three people relying on me; I had to get up and function. I pulled off the red dress, and changed into the thin shirt and leggings. I walked from the bathroom. 

“Did you think about the thing you're running for?” The cashier asked.

“I did.” 

“And?” 

“And I'm not so sure about her anymore.” I walked out of the gas station before the cashier could reply, and I got back to the car. Quinn had taken the driver seat, most likely to drive in the morning, so I sat in the passenger's seat. 

“You okay, Ria?” Peggy asked. She was lying in the backseat, in the circle of Sarah's arms. Sarah was asleep, her head leaning back against the window. 

“Yeah, just tired.” Peggy was the last person I wanted to share my doubts of Eliza with. 

“I can't wait to see my sister,” Peggy whispered. “Get some sleep, you need it.” I reclined the seat back a bit, and closed my eyes. I slowly felt sleep overtake me, and I succumbed to it. 

I needed it, anyway. 

\--- 

“Ria, wakey wakey.” I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder, and opened my eyes, looking back at Sarah. She had shook me awake, and clearly had woken up a few minutes ago. Her curly hair was sticking up in all directions, and she hadn't bothered to pull it back like she usually did when it was unbrushed. 

“Where are we?” 

“We're in Charlottesville, outside of a rest stop. We're ten minutes away from Monticello, and it's been open for a while.” 

I sat up straight, turning fully to face Sarah. “Why aren't we in Monticello right now?!” 

“Because we had to get you up first, and Peggy had to pee.” I had only realized then that Peggy wasn't in the car, and I sighed. 

“As soon as she gets back-” 

“We'll be in Monticello,” Quinn promised, and I wanted to scream in joy. Finally, Peggy walked back into the car, and sat down. 

“Go, go, go, drive!” I shouted, and Quinn drove. I say back in the seat, and let myself think for just a minute-- and all my doubts came crashing back on top of me like cold water.  _ What if she wasn't there?  _

I pushed the thought away from my mind, and chose to focus on the Lady Gaga song playing on the radio. 

We pulled up to the parking lot in Monticello, and I rushed out of the car; I half wanted to see Eliza, half wanted to get it over with. 

As we approached, a terrible mix of dread and excitement turned in my stomach, and Quinn paid for our tickets. 

“These will let us look around all day, and if we have to I'll buy tickets tomorrow.” We walked-- around the grounds, looking through the house, and wandering around aimlessly. 

I heard Peggy suck in a breath beside me, and she hit my shoulder. “Look at that girl over there.” I followed her line of sight, and caught the girl in my vision. She had Eliza's hair colour, and was definitely the same height but-- 

“Peggy, her hair is  _ way _ too short. It's cut in a bob, Eliza's was to the middle of her back when she left.” 

“It could still be her. People get haircuts.” She began striding towards the girl with inhuman confidence, and I walked after her. 

“Peggy, don't-” but she had already tapped the girl on the shoulder, and she had turned around. 

I sacked in a deep, startled breath. She was there and she was whole and put together and smiling and it was Eliza and it was Eliza and it was Eliza and  _ it was Eliza. _

Eliza's smile had dropped and her face had drained of colour. “Peggy?” She whispered, betrayal and anger and shock coursing through her eyes in the matter of milliseconds. “Why are  _ you _ here?” 

Peggy blinked, the joy that had animated her had been replaced by something unnamable. “Because you're my sister, and I love you.” 

“Why didn't-” 

“I tell you about Angelica?” Peggy finished, and I saw Eliza set her jaw. “Because I didn't know. Did you ever think that, for even a second, that Angelica would tell me and trust me not to say a word to you? Because Angelica isn't that stupid.” Eliza didn't say anything. 

“I'm sorry,” she finally whispered. “I was too caught up in myself to think about it.” She closed her eyes, a tear slid down her cheek quietly. “Thank you for still coming to find me.” Peggy pulled her into a hug, and Eliza wrapped her arms around her sister, her chin resting on Peggy's shoulder. 

Peggy pulled back. “I should,” she cleared her throat, holding back tears. “I should go find Sarah and Quinn.” She walked away, her curls bouncing. 

“Eliza,” I began, and she turned to me. I suddenly got a full view of her face-- she had gained a nose ring, and her haircut framed her face nicely. 

“Hi, Maria,” she said, and pulled me into a hug, her arms locking around my neck. She still smelled the same; flowers and vanilla. 

“I missed you,” she whispered into my ear, and pulled back. “I see you put my clues together.” 

“I wouldn’t’ve been able to do it without your sister, or Quinn and Sarah,” I admitted, smiling. 

“I'm glad, I missed you  _ and _ Peggy,” she admitted. “Peggy's great, I always felt kinda bad about the prank I pulled on her.”

“Why'd you do it, then?” 

“I-I don't know. I was too angry to think straight, and sick of dealing with people that were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and-” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “I was sick of people like me. I just, needed to get out and show people that they weren't above any of that.

“Everything that happened, I felt like I needed to disappear sooner and I chose the victims, then we went and brought the fucking rain down, and it was great,” she said. “And then I had to get away, because Manhattan was choking me.” 

“I get it,” I announced. “But I think it was less of Manhattan choking you, and more the people. A city can't be after you, but the people in it can.” 

“Yeah,” Eliza bit her lip, looking at me. “You know what, I'm going to apologize later.” She took a step forward, and in the second that it took her to do that, she was kissing me. There was the small voice in the back of my mind that said  _ this isn't happening _ . But, I chose to ignore the voice and instead I kissing her back, letting my fingers trail into her hair. 

Whoever pulled away first would be lost to the both of us. “Don't you dare apologize,” I whispered, and she chuckled quietly. 

“Kissing you wasn't what I need to apologize for,” she said, and I felt a freezing cold spread through my veins. 

“Tell me what it is, ‘Liza.” 

“I'm not going back to Manhattan with you,” she whispered, and the cold in my veins froze into ice. “I want to travel, go to place I haven't been.” 

“I'm not going to be seeing you for some time, am I?” I asked despite being petrified of the answer. 

“Maybe, I don't know. I'll see some things and visit, and maybe I'll slap Angelica in the face like I should have.” I laughed, and she laughed and for the moment we were laughing, things felt good. “But I'm not going back to a place where I feel choked.” 

“I know,” I answered, and I took a deep breath. “But, for just a moment, can we pretend that everything is okay?” 

“Are you willing to deal with the consequences of pretending?” She inquired.

“I am.” 

And so, we did. 


End file.
